Galactic Storm

by Morgan Blayde

  Galactic Storm

  Morgan Blayde

  Acknowledgments

  To those who helped along the way: Sally Ann Barnes, Jess Cox, Denny Grayson, Caroline Williams, Chris Crowe, Steve and Judy Prey, Jim Czajkowski, Leo Little, Chris Smith, Chris Riley, and Tod Todd.

  OFFICIAL WEBSITE:

  www.morgan-blayde.com

  © Copyright June 2016

  PROLOGUE

  SOMEWHERE REALLY, REALLY

  FAR ACROSS THE GALAXY…

  In the catacombs below the palace, dressed in an adaptive black nano-suit, Princess Ashere crouched outside the royal crypt’s entrance. Her tapered fingertips clawed the rough stone wall, leaving scratches. Coated in polytetrafluroethalene, her exposed flesh shone ghost white. Under the polished sheathing she was living metal. The false skin made diplomatic interaction with off-world organics easier.

  Her camera eyes shifted perception into the infrared part of the light spectrum. The darkness became a silvery wash as she peered into the tomb. Clad in burnished armor, the Honor Guards stood still, easily passing for nameless idols to the shadow-hoppers and night-moths.

  The guards protected the dead queen and the death-gifts of a thousand worlds. Moon lamps hovered strategically, casting a liquid-silver glow over twitching flowers that groomed feathery pistols. The blooms were irritated by the entrails of smoke from herbal candles near the bier.

  Elsewhere, bolts of spider-silk appeared to breathe, shimmering in the diffused light. Hand-carved jewels spilled from woven-platinum baskets scattered haphazardly about. And crowding wall niches, artifacts waited in enigmatic silence, reluctant to reveal their purposes. The dead queen’s face lay behind a white-gold mask with emeralds for eyes. Her hands were clasped on her breastplate, caging a yellow crystal. A copper-gold claw gripped the fist-sized stone, connecting it to a heavy chain.

  Ashere whispered a prayer, “Forgive me, mother. I do what I must.” She tossed a small chrome sphere into the chamber. The ball hissed softly. A black mist of nano-mites smudged the air in its wake. Temporarily turned off, the guards swayed and fell with a loud clatter.

  The princess advanced, her steps whispering stealthily on the stone floor. She paused beside her mother’s body and reached for the golden stone. Her motion stalled, her arm half-extended. She withdrew her hand, returning it a moment later, cupping a handful of flower petals savaged from a bloom. She scattered the petals. They hit the body and vanished within. Ashere laughed as an alarm sounded in the distance and the vault’s only door irised shut. She waved tapered fingers through the image of the necklace, touching an illusion of light.

  “Such a childish tricks…”

  The mechamorph stared at her right hand as the false skin was absorbed. Her fingers fused and thinned to become an elongated steel shaft. She jammed its point under the top slab, heaving with a guttural scream that the nearby walls threw back in her face. The top section of the bier slid to the floor with a boom, scattering assorted treasures.

  Betrayed, the holographic image the queen snapped out. A hollowed pocket lay exposed. It held the queen’s true body. On her breast, the true necklace nestled in a soft pool of its own golden light.

  Reforming her hand, Ashere scooped up the prize. The golden crystal swung violently on its chain, glittering, only a small breath away from Ashere’s triumphant smile.

  Worth a thousand empires, and it’s all mine—the Heart of the Cosmos.

  Philosophers and scientists argued over what it was and how it worked. Some said it was the infinite mass of a microscopic universe emerging into our larger dimension where it became small again. Others claimed it was a common crystal that happened to be in sync with the life-force of the universe. Ashere didn’t concern herself with academic disputes. She had her own name for the stone—power!

  The air around her hazed with crisscrossing needles of topaz light as jags of energy unfurled from the necklace.

  “No, thief, the jewel is not for the likes of you.”

  Hearing the familiar voice, Ashere wheeled in surprise. The speaker wore robes of spun gold and a white-gold mask with emerald eyes.

  “Mother?” the word trembled on Ashere’s lips.

  “She is part of me, as are all those who have worn the Star. Why have you come? You were judged unworthy of our meld.” The wraith gestured, and the necklace flew from Ashere’s hand to her own, dragging the streamers of fire with it. “Go, while I allow it.”

  “Not without my prize.” Ashere leaped for the stone.

  The golden haze vanished, taking the wraith and the necklace along.

  Ashere fell amid blue-ivory carvings and jars of perfume that shattered. Essences mixed, becoming disagreeable. A weird stench emerged. She deactivated her chemical sensors, and snarled, picking herself up off the floor.

  She’d calculated exactly how many nano-seconds she could expend here. Those numbers were racing to zero. She heard the vault door processing an entry code. The iris was about to scrape open. The palace guards were moments away. Ashere had no wish to test their loyalty in a matter of extreme sacrilege. She brushed back fabric, exposing a strip of wrist. Bringing a cobalt bracelet close to her lips, she rattled off commands, “Mitron, slide me home. The mission is still-born and lost.”

  Space bent around her. She faded in a half-seen, shell-swirl of ruddy light, leaving one less shadow in the room.

  ONE

  Beached strands of straw-colored seaweed were clumped in misery, as gulls wheeled and clacked overhead. Max strolled across the damp, pebbly sand, picking her way carefully around tidal pools, coral outcroppings, and debris left by the cold waves. The wind teased her blonde hair, forcing her to brush it clear of her eyes.

  Thumbing the edge of a sand dollar, she moved inland, around the base of a coral spur too large to scramble over. Her eyes probed its thick coating of bloated, purple starfish. Her father had explained that they became orange when boiled for preservation—and they screamed rather loudly, though you had to be a dog, or a tree, to hear the frequency.

  She’d grown into a high-schooler, surviving years of miseducation with a stoic spirit. Past snippets had turned out to be less than accurate. He hated not having an answer for everything and so improvised quite freely.

  Parents needed to be humored, being the ones who doled out money on a regular basis. Wary of impromptu lectures, she usually just nodded along as if she believed.

  The starfish were pudgier than she’d expected.

  Strange, the idea of killing something to preserve it...

  Past the coral, Max returned to the water’s edge. She scanned the foamy sands for agates. There weren’t any to find; beachcombers had already harvested the sea’s treasure before her family’s late arrived. Max blamed Tommy for their tardiness. While she got up early, getting ready for the trip to the beach, he lay dream-bound, drooling on his pillow. When he finally got moving, he did so zombie-fashion, staggering across a cluttered bedroom, putting himself together with sloth-like abandon.

  And what does he do when we get here? Hangs out at the picnic tables, swilling soda and reading text books. If he wasn’t into this, he should have stayed home. Not that mom would let that happen; we just had to have one last Bright family outing before Tommy goes off to college.

  She sighed, rolling her eyes like one put upon by a cruel universe.

  Plunging seaward, moving nearly too fast to see, a fireball jerked Max out of her thoughts. She saw an amber nimbus with a white core. It scored the sky with a thick, smudgy gold tail. A thrill of wonder shot through her as the fireball angled into the waves a mere twenty yards away. The meteor shunted a fan of water from its path, producing twin shock waves: hitting water, then the sea floor. A cloud of steam marked the submersion point.

&nb
sp; Max’s excitement soured into horror as watched the sea rise—a huge wall—heading her way. Adrenaline flooded her system; her heart pounded, her mouth went dry. Her knees trembled. A thought screamed inside her head: Run, you idiot!

  Spinning, Max ran, hindered by sliding sand. Her feet just couldn’t seem to get a grip. Beyond the beach, the inland bluff was only twenty feet, but the water thundered in. An involuntary scream ripped out of her as dark water hammered her off her feet, slamming past, flooding the beach, dragging her along like an afterthought. She fell into deep dimensions of panic as she was wrenched around and slammed into the vertical wall of the bluff. Unbelievable pain spiked through her body, as her precious breath bubbled away. Strangely, reality felt distant, as if she were moving out of time, leaving sensation behind. Some deep, animal part of her brain knew she was dying.

  Her heart stopped.

  Thick silence replaced the roar of water.

  The need to breathe left her as golden light dazzled her eyes.

  Wings of energy—warm, inviting, sustaining—wrapped around her.

  Fear and pain drained away. And in the heart of the glow, Max saw a beautiful crystal on a chain. Thought filled her head, alien but not intrusive—like the voice of a Grandmother. Take it, Maxine. You are destined to wield power.

  Hesitantly, she reached out. Her hand felt sleek, crystalline planes. The jewel brightened.

  Max jerked tingling fingers away, checking for damage. They weren’t singed, so she grabbed the jewel with confidence. And felt herself expanding, growing far larger than her body. The world dwindled. Now a planet-sized ghost, she straddled the world, sharing its orbital groove, feeling its in-system spin along with the galactic tide: a webbing that tugged at her awareness. The moon’s light fell, a cold slick on her back she could somehow feel. The sun smeared her face with its competing glow. The sun’s light was the stronger of the two pressures.

  An urge toward caution bloomed. Somehow she knew she could shatter the Earth like a papier-mâché egg if she weren’t careful.

  OMG! This is so spun!

  Without warning, the sprawling universe blew out like a soap bubble and the beach scene returned. Rip tides were sweeping everything out to sea…but her. Wrapped in the stone’s golden glow, Max was anchored in place. She tried to open her hand to study the jewel, but couldn’t move her fingers. Her hand had a will of its own, clenching the stone in a death-grip. Her hand jerked itself upward, lifting her out of the watery backwash. Her stomach flopped and then grew heavier.

  There’s no way this can be happening.

  Soaked, trembling, and chilled, she dangled, her free hand latched onto a mud-slick root that jutted from the top lip of the bluff.

  Great! I’ve survived a tidal wave just to fall and break my neck.

  She opened her mouth and shrieked for help.

  A hand reached over the edge, snagging her wrist with desperate strength. She was pulled up over the edge. Clearing the bluff, she saw her big brother. Solid ground under them both, he clutched her shivering body, ignoring the wet that transferred to his clothes. Crushed, Max gasped for breath.

  He loosened his hold, and gently brushed wet strands of mouse-brown hair away from her face. “Really, Max,” he sighed theatrically, “what you won’t do for attention.”

  “Jerk!” Her free hand fisted his shirt. “You’re blaming me for the tidal wave?”

  Tommy said, “I don’t have to be rational; I’m bigger than you. Don’t ever scare me like that again.”

  “I’m not planning a repeat performance. By the way,” she mellowed her tone, “thanks for saving my life.”

  “Had to; Dad needs the tax deduction.”

  “Dad...Mom!” She felt guilt for forgetting them.

  “Here they come. Good thing they weren’t on the beach; they’d have been sucked miles out to sea!”

  Her mom displaced Tommy. Max braced for the fussing. Buried in her mom’s arms, her life’s breath was crushed away once more. Her mom’s voice poured into her. “Oh, my poor baby!”

  “Really…Mom…I’m fine, just a little…soggy.” Max recovered her breath. “But it was totally whacked; there was this bright golden light everywhere and this voice…”

  Her mother sobbed. “Heaven gave you back to me!”

  “Uh, well, I suppose.” Max dropped the subject, deciding her parents might be too fragile to face the collapse of reality as they knew it.

  She couldn’t see him, but Max sensed her father close by. His special Raider’s football blanket came out of nowhere, tucked around her. His gruff voice broke with emotion, “You’re all right—no broken bones, sprains, contusions, or concussions? Maybe we should swing by the hospital.”

  “I’m fine, Dad. Not a scratch, not even a bump on the head. Can’t we just go home?”

  “Well…” He looked at her mom?

  She nodded. “We’ll keep an eye on her. If anything develops, we’ll an ambulance.”

  “Fine.” He slumped, relaxed. “I’ll load the car. You bundle Max up in the backseat. Next time, we’re sticking to miniature golf.” Despite his light tone, a tremor hung in his voice that Max had never heard before.

  He’s being strong, like fathers are supposed to be, but he was really scared—for me. It struck home how very human her parents were. They’d always seemed so in control. When did that change?

  Her mom helped her to her feet, leading her along like an invalid. Max clutched the blanket edges as she was installed in the station wagon, hiding the stone from space. In the back seat, behind the driver, she was temporarily abandoned while the car was loaded.

  Slowly, stiffly, her clenched hand opened, fingers uncurling, tingling. Its fire spent, the stone looked common now, except for its size.

  But I know this necklace saved me. Maybe it’s haunted.

  Max wasn’t totally sure about ghosts, but she was glad not to have become one.

  “What’s that?” Tommy asked.

  Max jumped as he slid in next to her. Her hand closed reflexively, not really hiding the large jewel. “Just something I found in the water,” she said.

  He peered at her hand. “Can I see?”

  Reluctantly, Max opened her hand. The crystal sat in the depression of her palm.

  Tommy picked the necklace up by the chain setting. He turned the stone, studying it. Jewelry was a major interest of his. Wanting to become a designer like their father, he’d read every book on gemology and lapidary work he could get his hands on. Max respected his opinion, but she felt a weird discomfort like his fingers had ghosted inside her chest, as if he were handling her still-beating heart.

  She snatched back the jewel and her cloud of anxiety evaporated.

  “Hey,” Tommy said, “I wasn’t hurting it. There’s no need to flip-out.”

  “Sorry.” Max stashed the stone under her blanket, in a sodden pocket. A shiver went up her spine. She had the strangest feeling that the jewel would never allow itself to get too far from her. We’re connected somehow.

  She looked back at her brother. “So, what about the necklace?”

  “Craftsmanship is excellent,” Tommy said. “No flaws I can see without a jeweler’s loupe. A triclinic-cut crystal; could be topaz…not sure. The chain’s real gold, but heavier than the usual sixteen carets. I’ve seen Turkish gold like this.” He turned his face to Max. “You should show Dad. I think it’s valuable. Might have fallen off a luxury liner or something. There could be a big reward.”

  She frowned. Once adults became involved, things got complicated fast. Caution planted a desire for secrecy. “I’ll think about. Don’t say anything yet, okay?”

  “Gee, I don’t know. I don’t like keeping secrets from Mom and Dad.”

  “Oh, please, like you’re the soul of honesty?”

  “Well…seems to me, my silence is worth something.”

  Max glowered. I should have expected this. He’ll probably send me a bill for saving my life. She sighed. “What do you want?”

 
“It’s just that…I’ve been trying to study for up-coming exams, and every time I get up to speed, I’m called away for one thing or another.”

  “Your chores.”

  “Exactly. If you were to take care of the trash for me and all the other little things—for a week or so—I’d be happy.”

  “You’re blackmailing your own sister?”

  “Blackmail is an ugly word. I prefer extortion.”

  “All right, deal! For one week, I’ll do your chores.”

  “And bring me cold beverages.”

  “What!”

  “My usual Dew on the rocks. Hey, I did save your life, remember?”

  “I just know, one day, you’re going to cross the wrong person—and I’ll be ready.”

  He smiled. “Going to medical school so you can patch up my wounds?”

  “No. I’m going to be a lawyer so I can get your assailant off with a slap on the wrist. Anything done to you is a public service.”

  He laughed. “Good one! Just remember, starting tomorrow you’re on the clock. We are going to have so much fun together. Time will fly like a brick at a riot.”

  The back door of the station wagon opened. The ice cooler and various other items were thrown in. The back hatch closed. Moments later, Max’s parents piled in up front. The car started and the radio came to life with a football game in progress. Her mom punched in an oldies station.

  Her dad grumbled.

  “How come we always gotta listen to sports or dinosaur music?” Max asked.

  Her Dad answered, “Because America’s the greatest nation on Earth, and all is right in a perfect universe demanding a man must do what a man’s gotta do lest endless nightfall and evil rear its ugly head in hideous triumph.”

  Max tried again. “Mom, how come we always gotta—?”

  “Because it makes me happy,” she said.

  Less than thrilled by the answer, Max humphed quietly and there-after ignored the turns in the road, the changing scenery, and later the rush of cars on the highway. Snuggling in her blanket, she fell asleep.